Page 80 of The Good Guy on My Porch

“Because we need to stop carrying this secret,” Aunt Melly said. “We need to ask for help.”

“We assumed she was aware of the situation,” Mary said. “We wouldn’t have brought her here—”

“She needed to be here,” Aunt Melly said. “She needed to know the truth.”

I hurt. My chest ached, and my throat felt like it had been scraped raw. I’d lost Oscar and now I’d lost my very best friend. Aunt Melly sat there, calm and smiling, like she knew what was best. “That should have been my choice,” I said. “What gives you the right—?”

Her smile faded. “I’m tired of seeing you miserable, Dilly. You’ve given enough to your mother, you should get to live your life and be happy.”

“I wasn’t miserable until you chased off my best friend. I was fine. Everything was fine.” I might have been exaggerating a bit, but I wasn’t about to admit to a roomful of people that she was right, that I was desperately miserable. No one could do anything about it, so why bring them all down?

“Sweetheart,” Mary said. “We all know you’re unhappy. It’s clear every time you frown and your shoulders droop when you think no one is looking. And, even if you are as fine as you claim, you shouldn’t have to take care of your mother alone. You shouldn’t have to carry this burden alone.”

I pulled in a deep breath and tried to remember that they were here because they were worried and wanted to help me. I had a right to be angry with Aunt Melly, but not the rest of them. “I appreciate that, but there’s nothing anyone else can do. When Mom’s upset, I’m the only one who can calm her.” I wanted to crawl under my chair and hide. Not only was every eye in the room on me, but they were digging into the most personal part of my life, prying me open to reveal all my secrets.

“Maybe if you take us to see her,” Norma Jane said. “If we get to know her, we can all help out. We can go to her when she gets upset, we can take her food, we can help you care for her.”

“She needs to be convinced to move to the home in New England,” Aunt Melly said, causing every head to swing toward her. Clearly, there were two different agendas for this meeting. “Even this whole room of people won’t be enough to care for her. And none of us can help her to be strong and happy again.”

“She will never be strong and happy again,” I said, voicing my worst fear, one I knew was swiftly becoming a reality. I could see it every time I visited my mother. She was deteriorating and the sadness in her eyes was so deep no one could reach her. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to help her and nothing has worked. She’s never going to accept that she needs professional help, and she’s never going to leave that apartment.”

“We have to try,” Aunt Melly said. “Otherwise, we’re standing by and allowing her to kill herself. Doing nothing is the same as pulling the trigger on a loaded gun she’s pressed to her temple.” Gone was my aunt’s calm facade, her hands were clenched tight and anger flashed in her eyes.

I stood, unable to sit there a moment longer. “You think I’m doing nothing? While you’re in Italy, eating wonderful food and touring museums, I’m stuck here with her. I’m the one who sleeps on the couch and makes sure she’s not alone when she’s scared. I’m the one who holds her while she cries and makes sure she’s eating something and taking her vitamins. I’m the one who calls her six times a day, so she knows everything is all right. I’m not doing nothing. I’m doing everything, giving her everything I have, but it’s never enough, because she never feels safe. I haven’t seen her smile in more than a year and she’s so thin…” I’d lost sight of my point, but the anger was still there, directed at my aunt who wanted to come back from Italy and dictate how things would go. “I won’t do anything that might cause her more hurt.” I looked around the room at the women who attended my book club every week. Their expressions varied from concerned to shocked to sad. “Thank you for wanting to help,” I said. “But there’s nothing any of you can do.”

I walked out of that room, ignoring my aunt who was shouting my name. I was done talking about it. It was time I faced reality. My mother wasn’t going to get well and there was nothing anyone could do to help her.

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